Faith
by The Land Of Stories
Summary: Draco didn't realise that his life would change as he stumbled across a small cafe in Surrey. Harry didn't realise that his life would change when a certain blonde walked through those doors. follow them as life grips them by the ears, and they battle though the trials of love, fight war with their friends, and experience feelings they didn't know existed. DRARRY. Contains abuse.
1. Scream

**Hello :) I'm Amy, your author for this fic. I'm not sure what to say other than I hope you guys like the first chapter of Faith, and I would appreciate any feedback :) Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: The fantastic world of Harry Potter sadly does not belong to me. Otherwise, Harry and Draco would've gotten together ages ago.**

Faith

Scream

_I'm kicking down the walls,_

_I've got to make them fall,_

_Just break through them all,_

_Punching, crashing I'm gunna,_

_Fight to find myself, _

_Me and no one else,_

_Which way I can't tell,_

_I'm searching, searching…_

Harry loved his job at the local coffee shop. The way the rich scent of coffee hung heavily in the air, the soft, cheerful chatter and laughter that rang like bells and the smiles the customers always wore. The café was a happy place, with pale yellow walls and a soft oak floor, and it held an aura of calmness that made all the customers let go of their troubles and enjoy their time drinking coffee.

The large double glass doors blended in with the crystal windows that covered the whole front of the shop, and the only sign that there was actually a door there was the grey mat for the customers to wipe their feet. The view from the inside was beautiful. A grand oak tree stood slightly over to the right in the crook of the shop, majestically shadowing the small café with flickering shadows. Currently, beautiful cherry blossom bejewelled the long slender branches, and soft, delicate petals swirled in a beautiful dance before casing the pavements and roof in a dusting of pink. People rushed past with arms full of shopping bags, teenagers laughed as they hung out with their classmates, and little children looked around at the few shops with large, glistening eyes that held their childish curiosity.

Of course, the inside was just as beautiful as the outside. On the yellow walls hung paintings of buttery daffodils and snowy daisies, and the ceiling held many spot lights that changed into a rainbow of colours. The tables were made from the same wood as the floor, and were decorated with white napkins and a vase with a single creamy rose. In the corner sat a white toy box, full of colourful toys for the children to play with. Next to it sat dark blue bean bags and a dark wooden bookshelf holding worn paperbacks. Around the checkout stood a clear counter showing off a variety of cakes and cookies, each with different icing and toppings.

All in all, it was Harry's kind of place. Even though he was currently stuck doing the things the other staff avoided, he loved the place. He didn't care that he had to clean the toilets or take out the trash. All that mattered was that he was a part of this café, and he would do anything to stay there.

At the end of his long sifts, he drags his exhausted body back to the Dursley's and eats a pitiful meal that normally consists of the measly leftovers from his cousin Dudley. After that, he falls onto his small, hard cot and is asleep before his head hits the pillow.

The Dursley's were Harry's guardians. They "took" him in when he was one, finding him wrapped up on their doorstep one morning. They lived down a boring street in a boring house that looked exactly like the many other houses. Besides, why would boring people live somewhere exciting?

Their attitudes were anything but nice, however. Petunia, Harry's aunt, hated her sister for being different, for being book smart and pretty with long, flowing red hair and emerald green eyes. Petunia was dull and grey standing next to her. She had blonde, straw-like hair that was as stiff as wire, brown eyes and a horse-like face along with a neck twice the size of a normal person.

They hated Harry with a passion. Petunia because his eyes which he inherited from his mother reminded her of her memories that she longed to forget, and her husband hated him just because he could. Dudley, their whale of a son, followed in his father's footsteps. He loved picking on anyone who was smaller than him.

Vernon, Harry's uncle was a plump man with a fat head that held too many chins and brown hair that looked like a wig. He had a large moustache under his pig-like nose and tiny, brown eyes under large, salt and pepper eyebrows. He had almost no neck and whatever he wore, his shirt always strained over his bulk of a stomach, the buttons threatening to pop off at any second.

Dudley was a lot like his father. He was as wide as he was tall, with a mop of blonde hair and small, watery blue eyes. He had no neck as his four saggy chins hid it from view. Harry had always thought that he looked far too much like a pig, as his straining skin was always pink and his nose and ears were large and squished.

Yes, his life at the Dursley's was hell, but at least he didn't look like them. He had midnight black hair that didn't lie flat no matter how much he tried, and it curled around his face in soft tendrils. His skin was pale from lack of sunlight, and his nose was small. Perched on it was a thin frame of round wired glasses. His eyes were the bright emerald of his mother, and he also had a light scatter of freckles that you could only see if you looked close enough. He was skinny, too skinny for a boy of seventeen, and wore the cast-offs from Dudley.

So, hopefully now you will know why Harry liked working at the café. The warm, welcoming feel couldn't be more different from the Dursley's, and too him, it felt more like home than his own aunts'.

-x-

Harry was up before the sun even had the chance to rise. The only sign that it was almost dawn was the murky green haze across the horizon, and the black night had turned to a dark royal blue. He was used to it though. The Dursley's wanted him up at the crack of dawn to prepare their breakfast and fetch the morning paper like a loyal servant. He also had to clean the kitchen before they came down.

Yawning, he threw on an old Weasley jumper that his best friend's mum had made him a few years back - and yes, it still fitted him – and an old pair of jeans that was held up with a worn brown belt. It had his own made holes in, of course.

He shuffled down the stairs, expertly avoiding the creaky one that was almost half way up, and made his way into the kitchen. He did a quick tidy-up – mopped the floor, wiped down the counters, straightened the cups and plate in the cupboards and made sure all the labels on the food was facing forward.

After finishing, the sun was finally rising, and the Dursley's would be getting up soon. It was time to start breakfast. Getting out the frying pan and the bacon, he set it onto the burner and the noise of sizzling meat filled the room.

As that was cooking, he sliced and prepared the fruit for aunt Petunia and cracked a couple of eggs to add with the bacon. As it was almost done, Harry could hear Aunt Petunia's light footsteps on the stairs, followed by Uncle Vernon's heavy stomps and Dudley's shuffles.

"Boy, you'd better have breakfast on the table!" Uncle Vernon's vicious voice boomed from the hall, and Harry quickly placed the full plates on the table before going to tidy up the mess.

Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen first, sweeping her eagle eyes over the counters and the floor to look for a single speck of dust gracing her precious kitchen. Her thin lips were pursed and white, and her veiny hands smothered her skirt incessantly.

Uncle Vernon was next; his large face an ugly red and moustache quivering on his upper lip. His shirt was creased and his boring tie was wonky around his non-existent neck. Uncle Vernon's company, Grunnings, was having difficulties and everyone's pay was being cut, hence the reason for Harry working at the café, but he _did_ have the job before the difficulties, but now all his earnings were going straight to their pockets.

Dudley strolled in next, dressed in large clothes that would fit a baby killer whale. His blonde hair was slicked back in gel, which could possibly be the worst thing to do in Dudley's situation, as it showed off more of his ugly, squished piggy face. He sneered at Harry before taking a seat next to his father, his lumps of fat spilling out in the gap between the seat and the armrest. He then dug into his healthy meal of greasy bacon and eggs.

Harry just carried on cleaning as the small family chatted over their food, Petunia going on about their neighbours' latest breakdown with her husband whom she saw by straining her neck over the garden fence and peering into their windows.

And then it was time for uncle Vernon to go to work and Dudley to college. How Dudley got into college was a mystery. He was a thick as a lamppost, but Harry guessed that his uncle somehow bribed them with money. Petunia saw them to the door, and Harry soon heard the car drive off down the street.

"Go on, get ready for work!" Aunt Petunia screeched in her horrid high voice, shooing Harry from the kitchen and up the stairs. Harry rolled his eyes but did as he was told anyway. He wasn't about to moan about going to work. It got him out of this hellhole.

Putting on his best clothes – which all weren't that great considering they were Dudley's cast-offs – he brushed his hair and cleaned his teeth and then walked the short distance to the small café.

It was a pleasant day outside. The sky was clear and a brilliant blue with no clouds in sight. The air was crisp and cold, nice and fresh and it bit Harry's exposed skin. The people he passed were cheerful with rosy cheeks and large smiles, and Harry grinned just because they were having a good morning.

The first sign of the shop was the large, gorgeous cherry blossom tree outside the small café, a pretty pale pink against the sapphire sky. Yes, Harry loved this place, mainly because he could be himself here with no one to judge him. Here, he could be Harry, just Harry, and that alone brightened up his day.

-x-

The morning went by smoothly. Harry served the daily visitors with a cheery smile and joyful 'good morning's, talking happily to the little children and playing with them when he had a little break. His usuals came by; Emma, a young woman with shoulder-length curly red hair and blue eyes, was dressed in one of her seemingly endless wardrobe of dresses. Today, she wore a pretty blue one that stopped just before the knee. Her husband chaperoned her. Will was tall and skinny, but he had broad shoulders and large arms that stopped him looking lanky. He had chocolate brown hair that went nicely with his forest green eyes, and his skin-tone was dark from many days out on the sun. he wore a simple white shirt and dark blue jeans.

"Good morning," Harry greeted with a smile. "The usuals?"

"Please, sweetie." Emma chirped as she leaned over the glass case, staring at the cakes that were under it.

Harry bustled around, collecting Emma's mug (yes, she had her own) and gathering the marshmallows before pouring her a mug of hot chocolate. Will didn't care about his cup, so Harry picked the first one he saw and poured him his coffee. Placing them on a tray, he popped a plate with two hot croissants next to them before placing it next to the till. Laura, the girl who managed the till, expertly added the items together, telling Will the price.

"How's your cousin's diet going?" Emma asked as Will handed over the money and proceeded to take the tray to the nearest table to the counter.

Harry rolled his eyes. "They gave it up after Aunt Petunia found his hoard of chocolate bars and crisps in a box under his bed." he said in disgust. "I think Dudley has gained more weight than what he had lost."

Emma shook her head sadly, cradling her large mug of hot chocolate to her chest. "I'm surprised he doesn't have more heath issues, and I still can't get over the fact that your aunt let him get that way."

"I was friends with someone like your cousin," Will spoke out. "he was sixteen, and around 18 stone. This was quite a few years ago, mind you, but I bet they can't stop a heart attack any better than they did back then. Poor boy died when he was eighteen."

Harry winced. Dudley was almost 18, and he's a lot more than 18 stone. However, Dudley wasn't about to change his life at the mere risk of a heart attack.

"How are you, Harry? College going well?" Emma asked, spooning the gooey marshmallows out of her cup before popping it into her mouth.

"I'm good. College is difficult, but it's supposed to be challenging. My art class has me buried deep in research I need to do, but it's fun."

The truth was, Harry didn't go to college. College cost money - money which the Dursley's didn't want to spend on trash like Harry. They didn't think he deserved an education, so they kept him at home to do their bidding while they enjoyed life.

Harry hated it. He felt like a bird trapped in a tiny cage, unable to spread his wings and discover the world and who he was. Sure, he had a name, but after that, he had nothing. No qualifications, no medals, no trophies… nothing that showed who he was.

He wanted to go out and travel, see the world and _do_ something with his life. He wasn't about to let the Dursley's control the way he lived!

Emma smiled at him. "Sometime, Harry sweetie, could you bring some of your work to show me? I'd love to see some!"

Harry mentally sighed but smiled and nodded. "Sure."

Emma's eyes sparkled happy as she finished off her hot chocolate and her croissant, standing up next to Will.

"We must be off," she said to Harry as she picked up her flowery handbag. "it was lovely seeing you. Bye!"

Harry waved goodbye to the couple, leaning against the counter as he let the smile fall from his face.

He watched the families interact, mothers smiling down at the little children, cooing at the babies and Harry himself could feel the love in the air. Harry had never experienced love like what he was seeing now. Not off the Dursley's, anyway. He was sure his parents did before they died.

He wanted to be like those kids. Growing up with people who loved them for them, and not being shouted at, punched at, ignored like he was a piece of crap.

If the Dursley's tried to control his life, he swore to himself that he wouldn't go down without screaming.

**Please review and tell me what you think? **


	2. Behind Bars

Behind Bars

-x-

_I feel something over me__  
__And try to run away from the demons that haunted me__  
__The key turns inside, no place to hide__  
__I'm locked in no place, no place___

_I think I could be going crazy, going crazy, oh__  
__Feeling the walls come closer, find these corners out__  
__Cause I'm behind bars, cause I'm behind bars___

_Now a whispers calling me__  
__And why does my skin crawl with the pain of insanity?__  
__The key turns inside, no place to hide__  
__I'm locked in no place, no place___

_I think I could be going crazy, going crazy, oh__  
__Feeling the walls come closer, find these corners out__  
__Cause I'm behind bars, cause I'm behind bars_

-x-_  
_

They were getting worse, the beatings.

Uncle Vernon was becoming more vicious, angrier every time. His work must be close to closing down.

After coming back from the café, Harry failed to clean the garage in time for his uncle to come home.

He had grabbed Harry by his collar and shoved him upstairs to his room, pushing him so hard that harry tripped over his feet and was sent crashing to the floor.

After that, it was a blur. Each strike hurt; each kick of his Uncle's pointy shoe between his ribs, the meaty fists against his head that sent the lights whirling. Pain wracked his limbs, but not a sound broke through Harry's cracked lips. He would not satisfy his uncle with his screams.

His uncle had never been this violent before. Normally, the beatings consisted on a few swift punches to the stomach and getting pulled by the hair. He had never been forced to the floor, and his uncle had most certainly never kicked him.

It felt like hours before Uncle was pleased. He just simply stopped kicking, straightened his tie and walked out the room, leaving Harry gasping on the floor, his chest heaving and stomach pulsing with pain.

Harry didn't know what to do. Wincing, he struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall. He shakily wiped his clammy forehead with the back of his wrist, looking at his door. Of course, he knew that his uncle had locked it, but one could dream.

He also knew he would go hungry again tonight, but he didn't mind that too much. They let him help himself to the leftover cakes down at the café, so he'd eaten something today.

He wobbled over to his bed and fell down onto his knees, wincing painfully. He wiggled under the frame and pulled up the loose floorboards that hid his treasures away from ugly, greedy eyes.

He smiled happily down at the thick wad of money that was bunched together with an elastic band. _Soon,_ he thought. _Soon, I'll be able to leave this place._ And with that happy thought in his mind, he put the floorboards back and he crawled into bed and fell asleep, dreaming of white beaches, clear seas and swaying palm trees.

-x-

The next morning, Harry woke to a world of pain. Groaning, he reached up to find his glasses on the wonky bedside table, slipping them on and his world slid into sharp focus. He rubbed the heel of his right hand against his forehead, wincing at the harsh pulses of pain that wracked his brain.

He sat up, pulling a face at the pain in his stomach, and swung his legs out of bed. He stood up, stretching, trying to pop his bones back into place. Sighing heavily, he stumbled to the door.

The hallway was quiet as he snuck out; only Dudley's loud, piggish snorts erupting from his room once in a while. He made it downstairs without a sound, and he quickly started his morning routine.

The morning was the same as yesterdays. Dudley grumbling, Uncle Vernon looking like a vein was about to blow in his forehead and Aunt Petunia's lips were so pursed and so white, Harry thought he cut up lemon instead of melon for her breakfast.

The only problem with today was…

He had a day off from the café.

Most people would be happy about having a day off work, but not Harry here. The café was his safe place, his haven. Somewhere he could escape his horrid life here at number four for a few blissed hours, before slamming back into earth with a ground-shattering crash.

However, his uncle wanted Harry to keep up the illusion that he went to college and had a full-time education. Even if that meant lowering Harry's pay check a bit. So on his days off, he wondered the streets if Aunt Petunia wanted him out the house, kicking the gravel and sitting isolated in the small, run-down park.

Even when he was outside, he still felt trapped.

It was bad enough that his uncle had put bars over his bedroom window – he didn't want to risk Harry running away, even if they'd both welcome it, because if Harry left, that meant no extra money for the Dursley's.

So after breakfast, Uncle Vernon went off to work and Dudley to college, and Harry was left with his horse-faced aunt. However, Aunt Petunia had other plans, as she shooed him out of the house, waving the iron poker for the fireplace.

Wondering the streets was only slightly better than staying in the house. Slightly better because he was in the open air, but it made him feel lonely, stuck wondering around like a little lost puppy, having people who were out shoot him disgusting looks- thanks to the Dursley's spreading lies.

However, spring was his favourite season, so that made his time outside better, too. He loved how everything came alive again; proving that they can survive the harsh, bitter winter. How dead trees bloomed with beautiful blossom that he was sure was much prettier than last years', hearing the tweets of baby birds crying for their mother, the air cold but fresh as it blew through his black hair.

The spring held hope for him. If the flowers and trees could survive something as vicious as the winter, and then come back stronger than before, did that mean that when he won the battle at the Dursley's, he would be stronger for it?

Harry certainly hoped so.

He certainly didn't feel strong now. He felt weak and small, letting the Dursley's control his life like they did. He hated how he cowered away from touches at the café in fear of being hit. He hated how _small_ he really was due to the Dursley's neglect, and he hated how the Dursley's treated him like their own personal slave.

Sighing, he sat down heavily on one of the plastic seats of the swings, the material groaning under his weight from old age. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the metal chain, swinging himself softly with the toes of his scruffy trainers.

He failed to notice a tall, lanky boy fall into the seat next to him.

"Hello,"

Harry started, lifting his head up and green eyes widening as he swung his head to look at the stranger. The boy was tall, with shocking red hair and blue eyes, his face covered in hundreds of freckles. He wore simple clothing; an orange t-shirt with a dark jacket over the top, ripped jeans and old trainers much like Harry's own. What really struck Harry though was that the boy's eyes were gentle, and his smile genuine.

"Um, hi," replied Harry. He shifted in his seat.

"You work at the café down the road, right? Um... _Harley's_?"

Harry frowned. "Ur, yeah… why?"

"No reason," the boy shrugged, swinging himself with his feet. "It's just that I've been there a few times and you looked cool, and I've come to stay with my aunt for a while, and it would be nice to know someone, y'know? Besides, I saw you sitting here by yourself, and there's nothing wrong with saying hi, yeah?"

"How long are you here for?" Harry found himself asking.

"Not sure. My mum thought it would be nice if I stayed with her for a while, to keep her company and to give me time away from my brothers and sister." he smiled a crooked grin. "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

Harry smiled. "Harry Potter."

"What are you doing out here by yourself, anyway?"

Harry chuckled grimly. "My aunt kicked me out of the house. She has the neighbours round, and she didn't want me to be stuck upstairs." Of course, this wasn't the truth, but Harry wasn't about to go around telling strangers about his home life.

"That's nice of her," Ron murmured. "So, do you want to go and do something? Y'know, to get to know each other better? Or…" Ron broke off awkwardly, the tips of his ears flushing a deep red.

Harry had to consider this. Was it wise to try and get a new friend? Perhaps not, but Harry felt so lonely, and he wasn't about to let this chance slide right past him. "Ur, yeah, sure." He agreed, a flicker of a smile spreading over his face.

"Great!" Ron all but shouted, his blue eyes widening and a grin threatening to break his face. Harry thought he had a lot of optimism for hanging out with a complete stranger.

They wondered around the streets for hours, talking non-stop about the recent movies (Dudley had been talking about them earlier), the new Call of Duty PlayStation game (which of course Dudley had, so he at least knew the basics), and anything else that came to mind. And strangely enough, they hit it off.

With their looks, they were completely different; Ron with his red hair and freckles, Harry with his black hair and emerald eyes. Their personalities differed, too. Ron liked sports, cars, and music, and every time he talked about his favourite hockey team, the Chudley Cannons, his eyes lit up and he made wild gestures with his large hands.

Harry, being stuck in the house with nothing to do but read and clean was quiet and weary, flinching when someone touched him accidently and preferred to talk quietly. He was not used to people taking notice of him, let alone wanting to _hang out _with him. Dudley had made sure to frighten all the people who talked to him over the years by ganging up on them with his other bulky, unattractive friends. Since then, the only other people who talked to him were in the café. And even then, he had to put up a mask to hide the pain in his eyes and try to stop flinching at every fast, unexpected movement or touch.

The sky was slowly fading from a bright, vibrant blue to a beautiful tinted sky with mixes of yellow, orange and pink from the setting sun. Harry didn't realise it had gotten so late. The Dursley's will expect him back soon to cook their evening meal, but he liked Ron's company, but he knew he had to leave.

So, with disappointment flowing through his veins, he said his goodbye to Ron, who promised to see him at the café the following morning. They then parted ways, going in different directions.

Harry didn't feel so trapped anymore.

-x-

**Song is **_**Behind Bars**_** from The Wanted.**


	3. Life Of His Own

Life Of His Own

-x-

_Every man has his daydreams  
Every man has his goal  
People like the way dreams have  
Of sticking to the soul  
Thunderclouds have their lightning  
Nightingales have their song  
And don't you see I want my life to be  
Something more than long...  
Rivers belong where they can ramble  
Eagles belong where they can fly  
I've got to be where my spirit can run free  
Got to find my corner of the sky_

-x-

Draco Malfoy would describe himself as intelligent, sly, charming and arrogant. He wore only the finest of clothes, talked to the wealthiest of people, and was weighted on hand and foot. His blonde hair was constantly slicked back into an elegant style, only a few strands falling over his forehead and into his silvery-blue eyes, his skin was spotless, and he held an air of pride and confidence. He was tall for his young age of eighteen, and he stood and walked with the grace of all accomplished business men.

After all, what do you expect from the son of the owner of the world famous company, '_Malfoy & co'_?

His father, Lucius, was the pride owner of the world's well known electronic company. He was the role model for all his competitors. He was tall, blonde and handsome, with steel grey eyes and a sharp nose. His white blonde hair flowed down to the middle of his back, and yet it made him look more confident, in a way. Like his son, he wore only the finest of clothes, and was well-known in the world of celebrities. He also used a cane, the handle carved out of pure silver and snowy ivory, twisted elegantly into a detailed design of a cobra's head. He didn't need the cane; he could walk fine without it – but it made him comfortable, having something precious so close to him.

Then there was his mother, Narcissa Malfoy. She was everything a woman wanted to be; tall, blonde, beautiful and a body to die for. He eyes were a shade of a warm blue, the colour of the sky on a clear, summer day. Her white-blonde hair was half-up, half-down, the top twisted up on top of her head in a complicated mass of swirls and plaits, and the rest flowed down her back in soft curls. Her skin was like porcelain, not a wrinkle or blemish in sight, hiding her true age from everyone who looked at her. Her smile was soft and warm, welcoming in a sense. Draco loved her dearly, and they had a close bond as son and mother.

Of course, their family had their ups and downs. Being the son of the world-famous company owner did that. Draco was pushed and prodded in different directions every day, told to do this and that, get shouted at by his private tutors if he made one small mistake, and listen to his mother and father ague over silly things. His father expected so much from him. His father wanted to shape him to be the second greatest company owner.

He wanted Draco to be a mini Lucius.

Draco hated that. His father didn't know that he didn't want to take over the ownership of all his father's companies. His father didn't know how much he hated to only be seen as "Lucius's boy", and not because of whom he truly was. He hated all the pressure of the lessons he had to go through, the pressure of becoming perfect just because his dad expected him to.

His father didn't expect him to lead his own life.

Draco hated every minute of it.

Every time their small family went out for a meeting or a conference, Draco always stared out the window of the limo, watching the people walk down the streets, smiling and laughing, joking and messing about. _He _wanted that. _He _wanted to go to college and make friends who would like him for who he was and not because they wanted to get close to his father. He wanted to hang around the streets, to laugh at silly jokes and mess around with no worries plaguing him constantly. He wanted a family who would support him though all his decisions and his choices, not decide the way he lived themselves.

The Malfoy family was a large one. He had cousins everywhere, so Draco, if he failed to succeed in his training, could be replaced as his father had many other Malfoy's who could take over. His oldest cousin, Sebastian, was everything Lucius wanted for a son. He was tall, smart and handsome, and he could take over the companies whenever he wanted, if he didn't listen to Lucius' wishes for his son to take over them.

Sebastian was everyone's ideal son. He had everything going for him. He graduated from Law school at the young age of nineteen, and he is quite a famous lawyer in America. He was home-schooled by Narcissa's older sister, Bellatrix, and he also held the Malfoy's good looks, but instead of the Malfoy blonde hair, his was dark and curly like his mothers'.

Bellatrix, Sebastian's mother, made sure to show off her son to everybody and anybody. She believed that Sebastian would become the greatest Malfoy, and because of this, Lucius made it a battle between the siblings to try to outdo each other. And thus, the rivalry was formed.

They tried to outdo each other with everything. From their first kiss to a reading race, they were enemies. And even though Draco didn't want to take over the companies, his challenge with Sebastian made him try his hardest.

But how, exactly, did that explain how he found himself in the common town of Surrey? Yes, after a particular argument with his father, Draco stormed out of the mansion, grabbed his keys from the dish by the front door and drove, taking no notice of where he was going.

He was on the road for a good few hours at the most, and he barely noticed the large, posh houses turning into shabby three bedroom houses and city roads becoming vast green countrysides.

He did, however, realise that he was in some crowded, small town when people stopped to stare at his expensive convertible like it was a rare type of animal. He just shrugged them off his mind, though. He needed to get away from his life, if only for a little while.

Parking the car on the side of a path, he got out and closed the door, smoothing out his suit and correcting his hair. In front of him stood a small building with the most beautiful cherry blossom tree outside. It was that, exactly, which caught his attention.

The front of the café was very unusual to what he was used to. The whole front of the shop was clear glass, and he could see straight inside without a problem. It wasn't full, and there was just the right amount of people to not be noticed, but by his clothes, he doubted that he wouldn't be observed.

The doors opened automatically when he stepped up to them, making a weird squeaky sound and the soft jingle of a bell sounded, loud enough to be blended into the low rumble of voices. A rush of warm air also greeted him, wrapping him up warm, shielding him from the acrimonious spring air. The smell of warm cookies and hot, bitter coffee came with it.

Draco breathed it in deeply. He loved the scent of coffee, and the smell of cookies didn't help either. He felt welcomed, and that was a feeling that he hadn't felt in a while.

He did, of course, attract a few curious gazes, and he didn't blame them. What sensible person wouldn't be drawn to his sheer, magnificent self? He was, basically, almost royalty in a way, and he doubted that any of these people had seen such a finely tailored and expensive suit from Ralph Lauren before.

Not making eye contact with anybody, he found himself a quiet seat on the right hand side, close to the blossom tree outside. If he breathed deeply enough, he could just smell the sugary tang of the sweet pink flowers.

Settling down, he let his eyes wonder around the café, admiring the paintings up on the buttery walls and the worn but friendly child corner. The tables were all circler, covered in a snowy white cloth and adorned with the basic cutlery, a menu and a vase with a single creamy rose. Draco was impressed. The café was clearly looked after as it was clean and tidy, and the people seemed to be having a good time. He only hoped their cakes and coffee was up to scratch.

From out of the corner of his eye, he saw a waitress heading his way. She had large, rather curly brown hair and warm, whisky coloured eyes. Her smile was kind, genuine and welcoming.

"Welcome to _Harley's,_" she said kindly. Her voice was like honey. "I'm Hermione and I will be the waitress serving you for today. Are you ready to order?"

Draco looked quickly to the menu before looking up and smiling. "Yes, thank you." He said. "May I have the black coffee with cream, and two warm croissants with butter and jam?"

Hermione wrote down his order on a small notepad, the tip of her tongue poking out between her pink lips. "I'll bring it over shortly, okay?"

Before she had the chance to turn around, Draco said, "Thank you, Miss Hermione." And he just missed the blush that bloomed over her pale cheeks.

After she was gone, he went back to observing the café, trying to figure out what made him feel so safe here. Was it the calm, buttery colour of the walls? Or the peaceful, welcoming atmosphere? He didn't know, and he was highly curious about it.

He let his blue-silver eyes drift over towards the cash register, and studied the people there, serving the customers quickly before they rushed off to do what they needed to do. The people were pretty boring, Draco concluded. Nothing in their actions seemed to pop out at him, and he quickly swivelled his eyes to catch a young boy walk out double doors which he suspected to lead to the kitchens, arms bursting with dishes of food. He had a smudge of flour on one of his cheeks.

Hermione, he recognised, rushed over to help him with the dishes, and she laughed, cleaning the flour off his face with the pad of her thumb. The boy was smirking as well, and Draco swore he saw those deep emerald eyes glance at him quickly.

What Draco found interesting though, was how quickly this boy caught his attention. Normally, it took anybody a while to catch his attention, but there was something about him that made him want to find out more.

Draco let his eyes roam over the boy. He had messy, black hair that curled in unruly tendrils around his pale face, and his emerald eyes were somewhat dulled by the wire-rimmed black glasses he wore. His lips were pink, and straight white teeth were shown every time he smiled or laughed. The clothes he saw from under the pale yellow apron looked far too big and lose on the boy's skinny fame, and they seemed worn and tired from over-use.

Before he could look closer, Hermione was heading over to his table, a tray in her hands with the things he ordered. She smiled brightly at him, cheeks a little pinker than he remembered, but she remained professional.

"Is there anything else I could get you, sir?"

"No, thank you," Draco replied as he looked down at his order. "This smells delicious."

Hermione beamed. "Our coffee and cakes are the best in this town," she explained, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "And every day we try our hardest to make sure that it is true."

Draco blinked, overwhelmed by the girl's optimism, but he smiled anyway. "Thanks again, Hermione."

Her eyes sparkled. "Enjoy your food, sir!" she said before bouncing back towards the boy with emeralds for eyes.

Draco sipped at his hot coffee, and he had to admit that it was good. Not the best he had, but it was an improvement to some of the more expensive coffee shops he'd been to. He could feel Hermione glancing at him every now and again as she talked with the boy, and he experimentally licked his lips slowly, and saw from out the corner of his eye the blush the girl had sported over her cheeks. And – wait! Was that a blush on the boy's cheeks? He wasn't sure, but a strange shiver wracked his limbs.

Yes, Draco would be coming here more often.

-x-

_Okay, a peek in the life of one Draco Malfoy. Yes, as it says in the summery, it is a drarry story, so don't worry! It will happen. I hope this chapter didn't make you press the back button! It will get better, I swear! And if you're reading my stupid rambling, thank you for staying!_

_Please leave a review and tell me what you think?_

_Song was off a musical called Pippin, I think…._

EDIT: okay… fanfiction changed my writing. Apparently, the site wanted everyone to be Draco! My copy is fine, so I have no idea what happened. Sorry for the confusion!

-x-


	4. First Glance

First Glance

-x-

_It's gotta be a strange twist of fate  
Telling me that Heaven can wait  
Telling me to get it right this time  
Life doesn't mean a thing  
Without the love you bring  
Love is what we've found  
The second time around_

-x-

Harry woke up with a smile on his face. It wasn't often that he did, but today seemed like it was going to be good. The sun was blinding as it slotted through the broken, wonky blinds covering the bars on his window, and he could hear birds chirping a happy tune.

He jumped out of bed with sudden energy that he had been lacking the past few days, and even the slight burn of his injuries didn't dampen his mood. He whistled happily as he changed into his best clothes but they still hung off his frame, and slid his feet into his too big trainers. He walked down the stairs and started on the Dursley's breakfast, whistling all the while.

When it was ready and the kitchen was clean, the Dursley's made their appearance. Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, and the brunet sadly ceased his whistling, but he couldn't get rid of the grin that had been present since he woke up. Even Dudley's hard shove against his bruised shoulder didn't do anything to reduce his happiness.

_Today was going to be a good day,_ Harry thought as he dug into his morsel breakfast of a single burnt piece of bacon and a stale piece of bread. Not only was he working at the café today, but he might just see his new friend, Ron.

Harry didn't like saying this… but Ron was his first friend. Everybody else who tried to say hi or even glance his way was threatened by his whale of a cousin, and they never looked at him again.

But, hopefully, Ron wouldn't see Dudley if he could help it. There was no way he would bring him to the Dursley's, and just the thought of having a friend sent exciting tingles down his spine.

He knew the Dursley's were looking at him strangely, and he tried to bring down the goofy grin he had, but he knew his eyes still sparkled.

However, time seemed to slow down the closer it got to the time he was supposed to start work. As he cleaned around the house, he couldn't help the tapping of a foot or the drumming of his fingers as he counted the seconds going by.

And then finally, _finally, _it was time to leave. His aunt took no notice as he left the house, and he smiled all the way to the café, and everything looking brighter and more colourful than he had ever seen it.

The air was crisp and fresh, and it bit Harry's skin. The sun was low in the sky, and fuzzy grey clouds floated through the yellow-orange-blue atmosphere. Harry huddled deeper into his thin jacket, but luckily the café wasn't far now.

Turning onto the street, he smiled as people rushed past with their arms full of papers or briefcases, shirts untucked and ties lose around their necks from the morning rush. There were hardly any cars on the street, so the sounds of the birds singing and the whispering trees could be heard perfectly.

Harry breathed in deeply as he stepped inside the café, his hands and face tingling from the sudden temperature change. Along with the rush of air that greeted him, the scent of warm cookies, sweet cupcakes and bitter coffee wrapped around him like a very comfortable blanket. Yes, this place truly made him feel safe.

He ducked behind the counter and hung up his jacket, switching it for his yellow apron that hung next to his peg. He then started on his normal cleaning routine; taking the chairs down from on top of the tables, setting the tables, sweeping the floor etc.

Even though he does similar stuff down at the Dursley's, it always felt different doing it here at _Harley's._ He didn't know why, but Harry thought it had something to do with being forced to do it and face punishment and doing it for the enjoyment of the local people. It made him strangely proud of himself to see customers happy and satisfied. _I helped do this._ He thought every day as he watched the people interact and enjoy their time at the café.

"Morning, Harry!" a loud, bubbly voice greeted just after the bell signalled a new visitor. Hermione came bouncing up to him, her wild chocolate locks tied back into a high ponytail and her cheeks pink from the biting spring air.

"Hello Hermione," he greeted back just as enthusiastically, opening his arms just as Hermione came barrelling into them for a hug. He laughed and pushed her off gently – he was still sore from his uncle's recent beating – smiling at her brilliantly. "How are you?"

"Very well Harry, thank you," she gushed as she hung up her coat and scarf on the peg next to Harry's own. "And yourself?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He replied. She smiled radiantly at him, reaching up to muse his black locks. She didn't have to reach far – Harry was only slightly taller than her, much to his disappointment. No wonder he was picked on all the time.

They both worked in silence, only now and then poking each other in the ribs as they brushed past the other, breaking into a small fit of giggles every time. As the sun rose higher, the workers slowly filled in, doing their normal morning routines. Soon, the café was warm from the fresh batch of cookies and cupcakes, making the air warm and sweet.

"Hey Harry," a shy voice said from beside him, and Harry turned to see the nervous face of Neville, a timid smile on his face.

"Morning Neville," Harry greeted, reaching out a hand to straighten Neville's apron that was ceased and wonky. "Have you got much to do today?"

"Same as always," the taller boy replied. "You should try it out sometime. It's rather calming, decorating the cakes here."

Yep, Neville was the person who made the café as popular as it was. Their range of cupcakes was exquisite, each design different and each designed by Neville. He made extravagant lilies in pure white to the deepest pink, roses as red as blood to the same buttery yellow as the walls. Bluebells as blue as the summer sky and daisies with their beautiful pink and white petals. He of course could make all the flowers in existence with the icing, along with all sorts of bugs like butterflies and ladybirds, and each cupcake design looked so real and so beautiful, the customers took a while to eat them. Even some of the staff had hid a few of their favourites to keep for themselves.

"Isn't that against the rules?" Harry said, displeasure and a slight hint of hope apparent in his voice.

"Not to you. They hired you to take on the jobs that the others are too busy for, which means that you could help me sometime."

Harry's eyes brightened. "You would really let me help you?"

"Of course." Neville smiled. "It gets pretty boring in there with the kitchen staff. We hardly talk."

"Okay, tell me when you want my help, okay?"

Neville smiled and nodded, waving slightly as he disappeared into the kitchen to start on his cupcakes.

Harry made sure that he'd done everything he was supposed to before walking to the door and turning the 'closed' sign to 'open'. He brushed his black bangs from out of his eyes and squinted outside, the sunlight casting short shadows over the street and it caught the morning frost, making it glitter like thousands of diamonds. Blinking to get rid of the weird colourful blotches that had appeared in his vision, he made his way back behind the counter, getting ready to serve the first customers.

It wasn't long after he turned the sign that the bell started ringing and the café was full of chatter and laughter. It was unusually quiet for a weekday, but there were still enough people to be rushing around taking orders.

About an hour later as Harry was putting away the clean cups and plates in the cupboards under the clear case, something caught his eye outside. It was a car. But this car was like nothing he had seen before. It looked expensive, and it was sleek and black and just plain unusual in the little town of Surrey. Harry tilted his head to the side, many questioning thoughts flickering through his mind. Could it be the owner of the café? Harry shook his head. There were hundreds of _Harley's _cafés around the world, and why would the world-wide company owner come here to Surrey?

Hermione, who was working the till, looked over at Harry, curiousness burning in her whisky eyes. "What is it, Harry?" she asked, following his gaze. Harry knew she had seen the car by her quiet gasp.

"Must be someone important," she murmured, absently handing a tray of food over the counter. "I wonder why they're parked outside here?"

Harry blinked as the door of the car opened, and out stepped a tall boy, who looked no older than his late teens. He wore a charcoal suit with a green trim, black, shiny shoes and his blonde hair was short and styled elegantly. He seemed to stare up at the café for a moment, before he shrugged and made his way to the door.

"He's coming in here?" Hermione's shocked voice made him take his eyes of the boy and concentrate on her.

"It looks like it." Harry said, putting away the glass he was holding. He stumbled as Hermione shoved him to the till, and she grabbed an apron and a notebook, rushing out to take people's orders. Harry blinked, confused.

As he took up his new job at the till, Harry found his eyes trailing back over to the strange boy, who had took up a seat in the quietest corner. He looked out of place in his posh clothing and his confident pose, his back straight and head held high.

He was brought out of his musing by Daphne, another employer.

"You're needed in the kitchen," she said simply, pushing him towards the double doors.

Harry glanced one more time over at the boy, shaking his head as he saw Hermione over at his table, taking his order. Pushing through the doors, he entered into the chaos that was the kitchen. The room was hot from the ovens, and the scent of cupcakes and cookies was much stronger than in the main room. The main cook, Blaise, called him over with a loud shout that was barely heard over the ruckus.

Harry dipped and dodged his way over to him, and Blaise chuckled when he came to a stop.

"All right there, Harry?" he rumbled, brushing his dark curls from off his forehead, smudging his skin with flower. His caramel skin was flushed and slick with sweat from the heat of the room.

"Yeah," Harry grinned, reaching up to wipe off the flour on Blaise's head. He ducked as Blaise wiped his flour-covered hand over Harry's own skin, laughing as he felt the white substance and the taller teen's fingers brush over his cheek and forehead. "Blaise!" he moaned, pouting pathetically.

"What?" Blaise said, tilting his head to the side and looking down at him with big chocolate eyes that shone with fake innocence. "Oh yeah, Harry," he said, quickly turning professional, "here's the orders for table numbers 2, 5 and 7." He handed Harry the dishes, laughing as Harry had to try to peak over the load to see.

"Thanks Blaise," he mumbled, steering his way back though the kitchen, trying not to drop any of the precious china. He used one of his elbows to nudge open one of the double doors, stumbling through them, dishes wavering dangerously.

Harry blinked as some of the dishes were removed from his grasp. "Need help, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Thanks," Harry replied thankfully, blushing in embarrassment as Hermione reached up to brush the flour from off his face. "What are you doing, Hermione? You're not a waitress."

"Hush, Harry," Hermione shushed, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. "I just wanted to see who he is. It's extremely rare that anybody like him comes into a local coffee shop."

Harry's eyes flickered to the boy in question, but he quickly looked back when Harry saw him looking their way. "Ur, Hermione, I think he's watching you."

"_What?" _her voice came out as a harsh whisper, and her blush threatened to take over her face, and it crept down her neck.

Harry's eye widened. "'Mione, do you _like him?"_

Hermione just shook her head and turned around, collecting the boy's tray and making her way over, a cheerful smile on her face. Harry just watched her in disbelief. What was Hermione _thinking?_ He could understand that she wanted to find out who he was, because Harry was quite curious himself. Why would someone as posh and rich as him choose to come into a local coffee shop? But Hermione… she was _crushing on him!_ As long as Harry knew her – which was around a year now – she had never found interest in anyone, and now, when someone who came in who was clearly unavailable and could possibly be here only for business, she fell for him.

Not good.

Harry watched them, the blonde boy's calm smile and Hermione's too bright eyes making his eyebrows furrow. And then, Hermione was suddenly bounding back over to him, the most silliest grin on her face.

Oh no.

"Hermione, what are you _doing?_" Harry hissed, watching her as she looked at the boy again. He snuck a glance, just in time to see the boy's tongue flick out between his lips. Heat rushed to Harry's cheeks, but he shook it off as embarrassment.

"For god's sake Harry, it's called being polite." Hermione hissed back, giving her notebook to one of the kitchen staff and putting her hands on her hips.

"You didn't answer my earlier question," Harry got straight to the point. "_Do you like him?"_

Hermione bit her lip and sighed brokenly. "I don't _know,_ Harry. It's just… just… every time I look at him, there are butterflies, Harry. _Butterflies_! I know nothing about him, but… but…" Hermione broke off, her face expressing her distress.

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, not knowing what to say. He was the worst person to come to about relationships, considering that he had never had a girlfriend/boyfriend. Neither had he experienced the butterflies in the stomach.

"Oh Hermione…" he murmured instead, uncomfortable with the situation.

Hermione suddenly gasped. "_Harry! _He's coming over here! Get to the till _now!"_

"Wha-!" before he knew it, Daphne was pushed away from the till by Hermione and Harry was suddenly in her place, blinking owlishly. "Hermione, what are you do-"

"_Just get his name!"_ she hissed, smoothing her apron and smiling brightly as she started to put away the clean mugs.

He was about to talk back, but he saw the blonde boy heading towards him, and he smiled pleasantly, eyes flickering to Hermione every now and then.

"Coffee and two croissants, right?" he said, staring into steely blue/grey eyes.

"That's right," the boy said, taking out his wallet. "Do you take cards?"

Harry nodded and took the card, making sure to check the name without the guy knowing he was. _Draco Malfoy, huh? _He put the card into the chip and pin device and twizzled it around to face Draco, and the taller boy entered his pin.

"Would you like a receipt?" Harry asked.

Draco seemed to think it over. "Yes, go on then."

"Here you go," Harry said, handing over the card and the receipt. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thanks," Draco replied, nodding his head before turning around and heading out the front double doors.

Harry felt a tug on his arm, and he turned around to see Hermione.

"Did you get it?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"God Hermione," Harry sighed. _She's got it bad. _"He's Draco Malfoy."

Hermione gasped.

"What is it now, Hermione."

"Harry," she said shakily. "Don't you recognise that name?"

Harry shook his head.

"Draco _Malfoy, _Harry! He's the son of the owner of the _'Malfoy & Co.' _companies!" at Harry's blank look, she shook her head wildly. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"No, not really."

"_Honestly, _Harry. How can you _not _know?"

"Ur… I guess he's famous, then?" Harry asked.

"Yes, you could say that. Their company is the most famous in the world, as they have the most advanced technology available. I just… why is he in _Surrey, _of all places?"

"I don't know, Hermione. Would you give it a rest now? We do have a job to do, after all. Maybe he'll come back here." He sounded doubtful.

"Yes, yes, you're right," Hermione sighed unhappily. "There's no point getting hung up on a guy who you will never see again, right?"

"Right."

"Come on then, Harry. There are customers to serve."

"I know."

However, Harry didn't realise how much meeting Draco Malfoy would change his life. At the first glance at the other, the red sting of fate tied them together.

All they had to do now was realise it.

-x-

_**Yay, another chapter! It is the longest yet and it hasn't even been a week since I posted the last chapter. I'm so pleased with myself!**_

_**I would like to thank everyone who has added this story to favourites, follows, and had taken the time to review! You people made me write so much quicker, so a big thanks to everyone :)**_

_**Song is "Twist of Fate" by Olivia newton-John.**_


	5. A Boy Like That

A Boy Like That

-x-

_We were strangers  
Starting out on a journey  
Never dreaming  
What we'd have to go through  
Now here we are  
And I'm suddenly standing  
At the beginning with you_

-x-

Harry's lunch break came quickly. He and Hermione hung up their aprons and linked arms, ready to enjoy each other's company. Since they didn't have long before their next shift started, they settled down at one of the circle tables, their talk mixing in with the gentle hum of voices.

"Do you think he will visit again?" Hermione asked as she pulled out her lunch, brushing a stray curl behind her ear.

Harry groaned, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his lunch. At the café, it was the only good lunch he had, as he had to keep up appearances that there was nothing wrong with his home life. "Hermione, give it a rest, please?"

"But don't you find it strange?" she asked, her small hands pausing in the motion of unwrapping her sandwiches. "Why would someone as powerful as him come into a common café?"

"I don't know, Hermione," he sighed. "Haven't we already been through this?"

"Oh honestly, Harry, admit that you are just as curious as I am."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "No, 'Mione, I just want you to forget about him. It's not like we will see him again."

"But in the slight chance that we will –"

"Hermione, sorry if this is rude but do you like him because of his status or as a person?"

"Ur...I…" Hermione broke off, biting her bottom lip as her cheeks flushed red.

"I guess it's the first one," he murmured, looking down just as shame flashed through his friend's eyes. "Do you know that you judged him just by his appearance?"

"What? No, I –"

"You instantly recognised him as someone important and waited on him to find out more. If he came in as a random stranger with no labels, would you have done the same thing?"

Hermione's lips were moving but nothing came out. Finally, she looked down at the mangled sandwich in her grasp. "No," she finally murmured, and Harry could hear the humiliation colouring her voice.

"So can you forget about him know, Hermione?"

"Yeah," she sighed, smiling timidly at the dark-haired boy. "You're right. I guess my crush is a dud, then."

Harry chuckled. "I guess so." He said, reaching over and placing his hand over Hermione's. "What some advice, Hermione?"

She scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion. "Go on, then." She said guardedly.

"Don't go looking for love, just let it find you."

Hermione snorted. "That's so cheesy, Harry," she laughed, entwining her fingers with his, giving them a sharp squeeze. "But I can see the logic in it. When did you get so smart?"

"I do have my moments," Harry grinned, picking up a stale sandwich and taking a bite. "Do you believe in fate?"

"hm? Fate? I'm not sure, Harry." she said, tilting her head to the side and scrunching her nose – something she always did when she was deep in thought. "It's okay in fairy-tales, but in real life… I'm not sure I like the thought of having my life planned out before me. What about you?"

Harry didn't know why he asked that question. He had asked it himself for a while now, and thought it over a million times when he found himself locked in his cupboard. He liked fairy-tales, and how fate always brought the prince to the princess, saving her from her tragic life. But Harry didn't see himself as a princess, of course. His fairy-tale consisted of two princes, saving each other in more ways than one. He had always dreamed of someone sweeping him of his feet, someone who loved him for who he was and wouldn't treat him like a slave.

Harry had also come to terms with his sexuality. Over the year of working at the café, he had found himself looking at the blokes who had walked in, and never at the girls. He of course knew that this was strange, as he heard Dudley over a million times brag to his friends about laying a girl – and if his stories were true, he felt sorry for the poor girl who was crushed under all of Dudley's flabby girth – and how he had beaten up someone at school for being a "fag".

Harry also didn't know much about his society. He didn't know if people viewed other's sexuality as normal of if they labelled them as freaks and pushed them away, treating them worse than the dirt on their shoes. However, he wasn't about to find out. If the Dursley's found out about his sexuality, they'll use it against him and treat him even worse than they did now.

So Harry would like to think that fate was real, that there was someone out there waiting to find him, and then he would be able to leave the Dursley's and forget about them.

"I'm not sure, Hermione, but it's a nice thought that there is someone out there for everyone, though." Harry murmured.

"I guess." Hermione hummed, brushing the crumbs of her lap.

"Harry!"

Harry turned around, smiling as he saw a gangly red-head waving at him whilst trying not to hit one of the tables in his path. Hermione, next to Harry, tilted her head curiously as she seized the stranger up.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said, moving his chair over so Ron had space to pull up his own. "I was wondering when you would show up."

"I wasn't sure if you were working today," Ron shrugged. "Who's your friend?" he nodded towards Hermione.

"This is Hermione," he said as Hermione beamed at Ron. "Hermione, this is Ron."

"It's nice to meet you," Hermione smiled, brushing a curl behind her ear. "How long have you known Harry?"

Ron's ears flushed red. "Er, about a day?" he asked, more like a question than an answer.

Hermione blinked, surprised. "Really?" she asked sceptically, staring at Harry for confirmation.

"Yeah, Hermione. He saw me alone on the park yesterday and said hi." He turned to Ron. "How's life at your aunts'?"

"It's alright," Ron shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Uncle Ted and I go out fishing sometimes at the lake just down from here, and Aunt Andromeda and I watch the TV, laughing at stupid corny films."

"That sounds nice," Harry smiled. He found it extremely nice to hear about other people's families. He also found it strangely comforting that no one else was going through the same pain that he was at the Dursley's. However, he knew that barriers could be put up to shield the truth, to appear normal every day so that the people outside wouldn't see just how _broken_ they were inside.

Just like he did.

Nobody knew how hard it was.

It was _tiring._ To go through day after day with fake smiles and cheery laughter when all he wanted to do was curl into a ball on his scraggly bed and cry. To release all the pent up pressure and stress that was burning inside, to feel something other than the deep depression and pain he constantly lived in.

So it made him happy that it was him instead of these innocent people he saw every day. He was happy that no one knew of his life behind a simple wooden door. Why?

Because he deserved it.

His Aunt Petunia told him when he was younger that his parents were murdered, by someone who was still out in the world. She told him that the police found him in the middle of their bodies, covered in blood and crying. They had no hint of who this person was, or why they didn't kill the one year old boy. Aunt Petunia blamed it on him.

Through the years, she always brought up the death of his parents, making snide comments about how he was the cause, and how they had to put up with a murderer living in their household.

Nobody knew why the murderer left the small boy alive, and nobody knew the reason why he killed Lily and James Potter.

"I suppose," Ron shrugged, bringing Harry out of his memories. "What are you doing after work today?" he asked, his fingers fiddling with a spoon that was on the table.

Harry blinked, casting a small glance at Hermione. The curly-haired girl was looking at Ron with her head tilted, and Harry knew she was trying to figure him out. "I have to help my aunt put a cabinet together," he quickly made up, and he didn't have to try to make his voice sound apologetic. "My uncle has to stay overtime at work."

"Oh," Ron said, trying to smile. Harry saw straight through it, as he had mastered the fake smile a while ago. "Never mind."

"I might be in the park tomorrow, though."

Ron perked up, blue eyes suddenly holding a sudden sparkle. "Really?"

"I might be," Harry repeated, throwing his lunch bag in the bin.

"What time?"

"Around mid-morning," Harry smiled, turning to face Hermione. "Would you like to come, 'Mione?"

Hermione turned her head to smile at Harry, but her eyes flickered to Ron. "Well, I have college in the morning, so I could be there after dinner… Ron, do you mind me there?"

Ron's frown turned into a grin and he shook his head quickly. "No, Hermione," his bit out, and the two other teens missed the slight disappointment and anger in his voice. "It would be nice to get to know you more, as well."

Hermione beamed, but she gasped when she glanced at her watch. "Harry, our next shift starts in five minutes!" she gushed. "We have to go!"

Harry turned apologetically to Ron. "Sorry, but we have to go."

"It's alright," He replied, getting to his feet and pushing the chair back to the correct table. "I'll most likely see you two tomorrow, though… right?"

"I hope so," Harry nodded just as a hand grabbed his forearm and started to pull him over to the counter. "Bye!"

Ron smiled and waved before exiting the shop.

Harry and Hermione put on their aprons and got ready for their new shift, laughing and joking about things that only they know.

Neither saw Ron glaring at Hermione's back before he disappeared around the corner.

-x-

Draco Malfoy wasn't someone who was curious about strangers. Everyone seemed boring and dull, all looking the same and doing the same thing. He also never shown interest in girls, especially the ones his father Lucius thought was perfect for a suitable bride. No one held anything remotely interesting, until today.

It was a boy, surprisingly. He'd never thought he swung the other direction with his sexuality – in fact, he's never really thought of his sexuality, as he had never imagined himself being with someone, creating a commitment that was sure to break and leave them depressed. But, this boy was unlike everyone he had ever seen – whilst everyone else had been dull and boring, he seemed to shine like the moon in a clear sky, sticking out from everyone else in the café.

His raven hair was midnight black, but it seemed much darker than the sky at night. It looked velvety soft, and he found himself wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through it. His skin was pale like fresh cream, and looked as delicate and as beautiful as porcelain. He wondered what it would be like to run his lips over that long neck of milky white, kissing and licking the expanse of gorgeous skin. Those lips… gosh, they were so pink and plump… he wondered what it would be like to bite on the bottom, to run his tongue over them in a gentle embrace. He had eyes of emerald green, but he swore that there was a swirl of different shades in them, making them pop and look far more beautiful than any diamond or jewel. They were like windows to the soul, so clear and so emotional, but instead of seeing the positive emotions, he saw… pain – pain so deep and so horrible, he wanted to lean over the counter that separated them and pull the smaller boy into his arms to shield him from whatever was causing him such hurt. It was such a contrast to the soft smile those lips held.

The wired glasses perched on the boy's nose did nothing to his absolute beauty – in fact, they made his eyes look bigger, more innocent looking. There was also a scar on his forehead, like none other he'd seen before. It was shaped like lightning, sharp and jagged and out of place on that pure skin. It was a dark red, an angry red, like it never healed properly. Draco wondered how the boy managed to get something like that.

And when their fingers brushed as he passed his card over… it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was like electricity, zapping through his veins and making his breath catch in his chest. It was suddenly war between his mind and his hand – his hand wanting to grab those elegant fingers whilst his mind fought for control over his limb that wanted so badly to touch those soft fingers again.

It was then Draco realised that he was _attracted _to this strange boy that he saw for about an hour. The thought shocked him, but an image of green eyes and a soft smile made him feel warm and fluttery –

Wait. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's never show emotion, or feel all _fluttery._ He should forget all about this boy with skin like moonbeams and eyes so beautiful that nothing compared to them. He should forget the touch of skin on skin and the shock of electric…

Draco shook his head violently, like he was trying to shake the boy from his mind. He gripped his steering wheel tighter, the leather warm and slick with perspiration and he tried to focus his thoughts on the road. But no matter what he did, the boy kept appearing in his mind.

He parked his car in the large garage at his house, but hesitated as he went to get out. His parents would see that something was bothering him, and he didn't know what their views were on same sex relations. Licking his dry lips, he let his head fall on top of the steering wheel, and let out a sigh, slumping his shoulders and letting his muscles relax.

For the first time in his life, he was confused.

Knowing that sitting in his car wouldn't get him anywhere, he pulled himself out the car, breathing in the fresh air, and let all thoughts evaporate from his mind. It was a long shot, but he had to try _something._ Swallowing, he followed the gravelled path up to the large double wooden doors and turned the brass handle, stepping into the wide stretch of the entrance hall. Toeing off his shoes and slipping on his slippers, he padded across the gleaming tiles, hanging his jacket up along the way. His steps echoed loudly, vibrating off the high ceiling and up the grand staircase that was in the centre of the hall.

The house seemed empty by its eerie silence, but Draco knew that his mother and father was somewhere in the house. As he made his way towards the main living room, loud, clipping footsteps reverberated from behind him, and he turned to see one of their maids hurrying towards him.

"Hello, Lavender," he greeted the woman, smiling politely. "How are you today?"

Lavender blushed, her hands smoothing her black skirt, her cheeks turning pink. "I'm fine, Mr Malfoy," she replied. "Is there anything you need?"

Draco brushed some hair off his forehead, and shook his head, smiling politely, despite his raging thoughts. "I'm fine, Lavender."

"Call me if you need anything," she said before she turned, heading back in the direction she came from.

Draco continued on his way to the main living room, hoping that his mother Narcissa would be there. He needed to talk to someone, and she was his best bet. They told each other everything.

The fire was roaring in the white marble fireplace as he stepped inside, and the cold tiles and empty hall turned into a cosy red room, filled with comfy armchairs and rugs, the air warm and sweet-smelling. He saw his mother sitting in one of the chairs, a thick book lying on her bent legs.

She looked up as Draco headed towards her, a soft smile on her pretty face. Her eyes were warm and Draco could see the love in them. "Hello, my dragon," she said in a voice just above a whisper. "Come and sit."

Draco sat down beside her as she put aside her book, and he laid his head on top of her shoulder. She planted a kiss in the blonde locks and a hand came up to play with them. No words were needed – they just basked in each other's company, watching the flames dance and flicker.

Draco then realised that this wasn't the time to tell his mum about his feelings about that boy. He needed to make sure that he was correct in his assumptions, to make sure that he really was gay. He knew that his father wouldn't be pleased if it was true, but he would support him, even though he didn't like it that much. There was, of course, other Malfoy's that were suitable to take over the company, and have a perfect wife to have perfect children.

He also knew that his mum would support him know matter what. And he knew that he had to see that boy again, no matter what.

-x-

**The song is At The Beginning by Donna Lewis and Richard Marx.**

**Heyy :) A new chapter! I don't like the beginning, but I love the second half. Sorry of I made any mistakes, I stayed up until the early morning to finish this.**

**I'm also sorry that it took just over a week to get it up. We had a death in the family, and I found it hard to sit down and write.**

**The next chapter should be up at the end of the week! :)**


	6. Broken

Broken

-x-

_The first time ever I saw your face  
I thought the sun rose in your eyes  
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave  
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,  
To the dark and the empty skies._

The first time ever I kissed your mouth  
And felt your heart beat close to mine  
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird  
That was there at my command, my love  
That was there at my command.

And the first time ever I lay with you  
I felt your heart so close to mine  
And I knew our joy would fill the earth  
And last till the end of time my love  
It would last till the end of time my love

_- First time I ever saw your face- Leona Lewis, such a beautiful song!_

-x-

As it turned out, no one was going to the park the next day. The weather took an unexpected turn, becoming bitter cold and gloomy with torrential rain. Of course, the Dursley's thought this was the perfect opportunity to send Harry to the shop to get milk. Even though, if you looked in their fridge, they had enough to last a few days.

Harry knew this, but he pulled his shoes on anyway, grumbling under his breath. Shrugging on his jacket, he ignored Dudley's snickers and headed out the door, making sure to shut it harder than necessary, but not hard enough to get into trouble. He paused under the porch, hesitating at seeing the heavy sheets of rain, and tried to ignore the howling wind stinging his skin and sinking though his jacket.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, he huddled into himself, bracing for the onslaught of icy wetness. Finally, he stepped out from under the cover of the porch, and was instantly soaked to the bone. The large drops felt like shards of glass on his skin, and he started jogging down the street, looking down to try to protect his face.

His shoes splashed through the flooded paths, water leaking through the old trainers, soaking his feet and making him shiver. He couldn't feel his fingers anymore, and he knew that they will hurt when he gets back to the Dursley's.

The corner shop was located around fifteen minutes away by walking, but Harry knew he could get there much quicker if he jogged. Besides, he didn't fancy spending more time than necessary outside in this weather.

There were few cars on the roads, and Harry came close to being splashed by some. Luckily, the water missed the target, only succeeding in filling his shoes more. And then finally – _finally –_ he was at the shop.

The lights were too bright for Harry's eyes, the green orbs used to the darkness outside and it made Harry blink to help his eyes adjust. The warm air made his skin prickle painfully, but he ignored it in favour of collecting the damned milk.

As he approached the counter, he could see the amusement dancing in the cashier's brown eyes, and he frowned angrily. He didn't see the amusement in the pain of someone else. He wanted to push the cashier out of those blasted doors to see how he would like being frozen right down to the bone.

Harry basically shoved the correct change at the cashier before grabbing the milk and turning, storming right back out the doors. He shivered again as the icy wind made his wet clothes bite and rub against his frozen skin, and tried to pull his jacket closer to his body. He knew it would be useless, though.

Through the howling wind, Harry heard the honking of a horn, but he didn't take much notice of it until a long, posh car stopped beside him. He paused in confusion, his next step hesitating when a person stepped out the back passenger door, a large umbrella opening up to shield him from the torrent. Harry instantly recognised him… but why would _he_ pull up next to someone like Harry?

"Mr Malfoy?" he said loudly, but even still his voice didn't penetrate through the roar of the storm. The blonde man stepped closer so that Harry was cover by the umbrella, and he looked up into grey/blue eyes, confusion written in every line on his face.

"Would you like a lift?" Draco said, stepping closer still. "My driver Gregory wouldn't mind in the slightest. It isn't healthy walking around in this weather with only a thin jacket on." Those mixed eyes held concern as Draco stared down at Harry. "In fact, I insist. I wouldn't want you getting ill."

Before Harry could say anything, he was ushered into the back of the limo, his protests ignored until the door was closed and they were off down the road.

Harry moved, trying to get comfy on the sleek leather seats, his clothes making rude noises as they rubbed against the buckskin. Draco – _Should he call him by his first or last name, Harry didn't know –_ was digging through a draw, (why would a car have draws?) and suddenly something dry and fluffy smacked him in the face. Harry blinked and pulled it down, and he then realised that it was a large towel. Nodding slightly towards the blonde, he wrapped it firmly around his shivering body, using a corner to dry off his face and his glasses.

As he pushed his glasses back on, he realised that Draco was staring at him. He paused his movements and stared right back, but Draco never budged. In fact, he seemed to look more interested.

"What is your name?" Draco asked, and Harry had to shake his head slightly to clear his jumbled thoughts.

"Harry," he replied hesitantly, finally taking a look around the car. It was large, and could certainly fit all the workers from _Harley's_ easily. The ceiling glowed with a thousand colours at once, and the light bounced off a flat-screen TV and bottles of alcohol and glasses.

"Harry…" Draco murmured, and Harry tilted his head at him. It was like he was testing how the name felt on his lips. Those eyes met his again, and a smirk accompanied it. "So Harry, what made you go outside in this frightful weather?"

It took a moment for Harry to realise what Draco had said. Wouldn't it be more appropriate to ask where he lived so the driver could drop him off? "We ran out of milk," he replied, taking a hand out from the warm folds of the towel to hold up the milk bottle.

"Your parents let you out in this _just for milk_?" Draco said, disbelief flooding his voice.

"No," Harry shook his head. "My aunt did."

"Where are your parents, then?"

"They're dead." Harry didn't know why he told Draco that. Even Hermione didn't know that he lived with his aunt and uncle, and she was like a sister to him.

"Sorry, Harry." Draco apologised, a hand reaching out – but it paused and dropped back to his side before it had gotten far. _What was he going to do? _Harry thought.

Harry just waved the apology off – it wasn't his fault that they weren't around anymore. "So are you going to ask me where I live?"

"Why would I do that?"

"To drop me off…?" Harry didn't know if that was an answer or a question. Draco smirked at him, moving up the seat towards him so that there was just a small gap between their shoulders.

"And why would I want to do that, when I have you here with me?"

Harry swallowed, the first hints of panic clawing at his stomach as he shuffled away from Draco, pulling the towel tighter around him. He shivered when the blonde chuckled with his smooth tenor, moving with him so Harry was stuck between the car door and the warm body.

"You intrigue me," Draco murmured, his breath ghosting over Harry's ear. "I just can't figure you out. There's something about you that makes me want to know everything about you… your age, your likes, your dislikes… the products you use…"

By now, Harry was out of his mind. His breathing quickened in his panic, and his eyes were franticly searching the car for some sort of escape. Draco- Mr Malfoy was crazy! He just wanted to go back to the Dursley's!

"W-what do you want, Mr Malfoy?" Harry squeaked, his voice unusually breathy and high. He kept his eyes trained on the carpeted floor, but he could feel Mr Malfoy's gaze penetrate right through him, like he was searching for all his secrets. It made Harry feel very uneasy.

"It's Draco, Harry. Mr Malfoy is my father." He chuckled, leaning his chin on Harry's bony shoulder. "I asked Gregory earlier to take a detour… I hope you don't mind?"

"Of course I mind!" Harry shouted, turning smouldering emeralds to lock on steely blue. "This could be classed as kidnapping, and my aunt will be worried. I should be back by now."

"You have a fire inside you," Draco murmured, burrowing his nose into Harry's neck. "That's sexy, you know. You're making it hard to keep my hands off you."

"Well try harder!" Harry growled, shoving Draco's creeping hand off him. "And drop me off, please!"

"No."

"You can't keep me here!"

"Well I can try." Draco smirked.

Harry's fingers were trembling now – with anger or fear, Harry didn't know. Beads of water dripped down his face from his soaked hair, leaving icy trails over his cheeks. He licked his lips nervously.

"Just… Just drop me off at Privet Drive, please." His voice was broken and shaking, and he had to look away to hide the tears from his face. How Draco was acting was bringing back horrible memories.

Draco went silent. He saw the tears in the bright emeralds before Harry turned his head, and he had never seen anyone look so… shattered. He felt guilt creep up his spine from the way he acted. What this boy wanted – no, _needed_ was a friend, not someone who would take advantage of him while Harry was at his weakest. Harry was hiding something… something big. And if this something was making Harry hurt in any way, Draco wanted to stop it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, moving to sit farther away to give the boy some space. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I… It's alright," Harry murmured back, but he didn't look up.

"No, it's not, Harry." Draco shook his head, leaning back in his seat and looking out though the tinted windows. "I tend to forget about other people's feelings in favour of my own. Let me make it up to you. Let me take you out."

Harry blinked and looked up. "What?"

"Let me take you out. On a date. Please?"

Harry stopped breathing for a moment. Did this _man_ just ask _him_ out on a date? Draco Malfoy was tall, strong and handsome, wore expensive clothing and was most likely the world's most desired bachelor. Harry was small, weak and scrawny, wore glasses and second-hand clothes and people didn't take a second look at him. "Why?" Harry had to know what made Draco want him. But, maybe it was a bet between friends? Or just a silly, cruel joke.

"Why?" Draco repeated. "It's simple, really. I've never met anyone like you. I can read people like open books, but with you… it's like you've padlocked yourself and thrown away the key. My life before was dull, and I didn't realise that it was lacking colour until I walked into that café and saw you. And then suddenly, it was like someone switched on high definition. Everything seemed clearer, brighter, and everything made sense… except for you. Besides, it doesn't really help that you are as cute as a button, even if your dress sense is a crime against nature. Where did you get these from, anyway?" Draco wrinkled his nose, reaching over to pinch the soaked, worn cloth between his finger and thumb.

Harry swallowed nervously, still wheeling from Draco's personality change. "They're… urm… my cousins'."

Draco scoffed. "How old is he? He must be quite large, as these swamp you."

"Same age as me," Harry murmured, cheeks heating up. He never really cared about his appearance before, but for some reason, he wanted Draco to see him in clothes that fit him and weren't cast-offs from his whale-cousin.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

Harry blushed again. "Seventeen."

"Really?" Draco said, disbelief making his voice rise in pitch at the end, making it sound more like a question. "You look younger, but that's a good thing. Your cousin must be huge, compared to you."

Harry kept back a snort. Draco had no idea how right he was. "He is." He replied, his shoulders starting to relax now that Draco didn't seem much of a threat, but Harry still kept up his guard. "He's around the size of a baby killer whale."

Draco snorted, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. "You're kidding?" His eyes widened slightly when Harry just stared back with his large, innocent eyes, showing no hint of a lie. "Does he look like you?"

It was Harry's time to scoff. "Hell no. he's blonde and has blue eyes, more like my aunt. She and my mother had no resemblance."

Draco took notice of the past tense Harry used. Shifting slightly, he leaned back and crossed his arms. "What happened to her, if you don't mind me asking?"

Harry swallowed, wondering if he should trust this complete stranger with one of his most personal secrets. The tall blonde was sending him mixed signals, and confusing him with his personality changes. But… he really sounded like he was interested, and there was something else in his voice that Harry couldn't place.

"They were murdered," he finally murmured, and Draco had to lean forward to hear his voice. He could also see that Harry's eyes had turned distant. "I was one at the time, so I can't remember much, but I dream about that night a lot. Do you know what's really weird, though?"

Draco kept quiet, knowing that Harry needed to talk about it, as he had obviously kept it to himself for some time.

"He killed my parents for no reason, but he left me alive, with a scar to remember that night always." A trembling hand escaped the prison of the towel to trace the lightning scar on his forehead. "He left me alive, to live with the guilt of my parents deaths on my shoulders, and he couldn't find it in himself to kill me too." Harry's voice had started to wobble and he trained his eyes on the floor, the tears escaping from those eyes flowing over his cheeks and down his nose, dripping off onto the floor. Draco realised that Harry had forgotten that the blonde was here, as he was trapped in his memories.

"I dream about that night nearly every time I fall asleep," Harry continued, and Draco felt his heart break a little at the sheer pain and hurt in that sweet, thin voice. "I wonder, every single time, why he couldn't kill me as well, it would have been quick, easy. Just one slit of the throat, and I would've been with them forever." A sob broke through those pink lips. "But he didn't, of course. He just left me sitting in their blood, surrounded by their bodies, with a bloody cut on my forehead." Harry finally broke down in harsh, rattling sobs.

Draco didn't think as he drew the shuddering body into his side, letting the smaller boy cry into his shoulder, not caring at all about his suit. He rested his head on the velvety soft black hair, letting his hands hold hi close. He felt a tear form in one of his eyes, but he quickly blinked it away. He had to be strong for the bundle in his arms, and if he wanted a chance with him, he had to let Harry learn to trust him first. He also knew that now, he wouldn't be able to leave Harry alone to battle his terrors. He didn't know what Harry's family was like, but when Harry sobbed about wishing that the man had killed him too, they couldn't be that nice to him.

Eyebrows creasing in determination, he made a promise to the boy cradled in his arms.

_I promise you, Harry, that I'll help you through this. I promise that I will stay by your side and stick with you through everything that will be thrown at us. I promise that I will look after you and love you, always._ Draco knew that he was crazy, promising to stick by the boy he had only knew for a brief moment, to love him and care for him. But as he looked down at the boy, at the way those dark eyelashes fluttered against those cheeks, and how those small hands gripped his shirt, he knew that he was falling hard for him. He only hoped that Harry will return the love and to give him the chance that they could be together.

He didn't want to see Harry broken like this again.

-x-

It was a while before Harry's sobs became small sniffles, but Draco never stopped his calming rocking or his calming hand rubbing his back. He could feel the boy's spine through the jacket, and he frowned at how thin the boy was. However, he didn't ask about it. Harry was stresses enough as it is.

Draco managed to kiss the top of the black head before Harry moved away, still clutching the towel around him like a shield. Draco was one again struck by how small the boy was. Harry turned his head and looked hesitantly up into steely blue eyes, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment. "Sorry," he whispered, using the heel of his hand to wipe away the remaining tears.

"It's alright," Draco reassured him. "Are you feeling better?"

Harry nodded his head, turning to look out of the tinted window. He was surprised to see the familiar street of Privet Drive, and saw that the rain had slowed down to a misty drizzle.

"We're on your street now," Draco informed him, even though it wasn't needed. "Do you want me to walk you to your door?" the blonde secretly hoped that Harry would say yes. He would like to see these so-called family members for himself. Ever since Harry mentioned that his cousin was large, he knew that something was up. A seventeen year old as small and as skinny as Harry shouldn't be as _small_ and _skinny _as he was if the family had plenty of food.

Draco smiled as Harry hesitantly nodded his head, removing the towel and giving it back to Draco. The taller teen thanked him and shoved the damp towel in an unused apartment under one of the unused seats. He also each over and opened a small fridge, pulling out the milk that Harry had brought from the shop. As Harry took it, the passenger door opened up, and Harry stepped out, thanking the driver as he passed.

The air outside was cool and sharp, and Harry was glad for it. Hopefully, it would cool down his face and hide the fact that he had been crying. Gregory the driver had parked near number 1, so they didn't have to walk far to get to the Dursley's.

Draco stepped out of the car next to him, looking around at the identical houses with disgust. "You live here?" he asked Harry, the disgust showing in his voice. At Harry's nod, he sneered and placed a hand on the smaller man's shoulder, and Harry was surprised that the touch helped him calm his nerves.

With each step closer they got to the Dursley's, Harry started to regret letting the tall blonde escort him to the door. He had hoped that Draco's presence would maybe calm his uncle down until he was inside, but now, Harry had a bad feeling that everything was about to break apart.

Harry was surprised to see the door of number four in front of him as he pulled out of his thoughts, and the nerves hit his system again, sending shivers down his spine. But, he knew that he had to get it over with. Breathing in deeply, he knocked on the door with a shaky fist.

It wasn't long before the door slammed open violently, and Harry flinched when his uncle appeared, red faced and snarling. His beady eyes locked onto Harry's, promising through his glare of the punishment that he would have later that night. Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat. He knew that this was a bad idea.

"Potter!" Vernon snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. "It's about time you got here. Get your ass inside!" Harry had to take a step back at the sheer hatred in his uncle's voice, and he was surprised that he ignored Draco like he was nothing.

Draco, however, was not intimidated by Vernon at all. Truthfully, Draco had dealt with worse, but his father was there with him. He stepped forward when he felt the muscles spasm under his hand that was still gripping the shorter boy's shoulder, clearing his throat. He didn't even twitch when the fat man trained his glare at him.

"Who're you?" Vernon grunted rudely, running his eyes up and down the blonde's body to seize him up. "What do you want?"

"I am here because I found your nephew here walking in that terrible downpour we had earlier." Draco said, his voice polite and airy. "Truthfully, I'm surprised that you weren't concerned for him when he didn't come back straight away. And I am surprised that you would send him out in the storm in the first place – for milk no less." Draco had to hide a smile as he studied his nails. He could practically feel the steam rushing out of Vernon's nose and ears.

"_You," _Vernon jabbed a large, fat finger at Draco, poking him in the chest. "Who do you think you are, telling me what to do with my Nephew?"

"Vernon, who is it?" a loud, piercing shout interrupted whatever Draco was about to say, and a thin woman suddenly appeared beside her husband, her face becoming tight when she spotted Harry." Boy, I thought I told you to hurry! We couldn't have a single cup of tea whilst you were gone." She sniffed, sticking her nose in the air.

"Why, aren't you two _lovely_." Draco snarled, bringing the attention back to him.

"And who are you?" Petunia said, just as rudely as Vernon.

"Let me introduce myself," Draco stepped forward, letting go of Harry's shoulder to keep him behind him. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and I would say that it was a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a huge lie."

Draco smirked when he saw the colour drain out of both of their faces, eyes wide in disbelief. Petunia pushed herself in front of Vernon, her lips curling into a fake smile. "Ah, Mr Malfoy, what brings you to our home this evening?"

"As I said to your _charming_ husband, I found Harry outside in the storm earlier and I couldn't just leave him there to catch his death. So I thought the best thing to do was to dry him off and let him warm up before dropping him back here."

"That was very kind of you, Mr Malfoy," Petunia replied, reaching out and grabbing Harry's shoulder, making sure to dig her nails in the delicate skin before shoving him inside. "Harry, go inside and change out of those wet clothes. I wouldn't want you getting ill."

"That's strange," Draco thought aloud. "If you didn't want him to get sick, why let him out in that rain just for milk?"

"_Draco…" _Harry hissed from behind his aunt. "Leave it."

But the blonde just glanced at him from out of the corner of his eye before turning back to Petunia. "_Well?_"

"Now listen here," Vernon grunted, the colour rushing back into his large, flabby face. "How we raise the boy has nothing to do with you, so get lost and mind your own business."

"Vernon!" Petunia hissed at her husband, gripping his skin-tight shirt in her bony hand. "_Do you know who that is?_ You can't talk to him like that!"

"Petunia, stay out of this." He turned back to the blonde. "I don't care who you are, now get out of my sight!"

"Oh really?" Draco raised a slender eyebrow, amused at how Harry was climbing the stairs at a snail's pace. "I think you should care, because I have connections and I could get you fired before you know it."

Vernon opened his mouth, jabbing his finger again, but Petunia pulled him back – well, she tried –and hissed, "_Leave it!" _Vernon's face turned a lovely shade of purple, but he backed off.

With a pointed glare from his wife, he hastily muttered a "Thanks for bringing him home," before retreating back in the house, slamming the door behind him.

Draco's smirk dropped off his face, and his eyebrows burrowed in thought. He was expecting something like that to happen, but what he didn't expect was the sheer hatred that shone in their eyes as they levelled their glares on the small brunet.

Something wasn't right, and Draco was more motivated than ever to have Harry by his side.

He only hoped that it would turn out okay.

-x-

_**Okay, another chapter is up! I apologise for its lateness, but I had to help my mum and nan clean out my other nan's flat who recently passed away, and by the time I got home, I couldn't find it in myself to write this. BUT, it's longer than any other chapter, but I'm not that happy with it. I would still like to hear your views on it though :)**_

_**I don't know when the next chapter will be up, because college starts tomorrow, and the courses I'm taking have a huge amount of work to be completed. I'll try my best, though!**_

_**Till next time, **_

_**The Land Of Stories**_


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